Diary
by The.Clown.That.Smiles
Summary: Michael is everything they can never be


_Disclaimer - don't own Lost Boys_

I've stated that I suck at writing Star, but I wanted to try writing something from her POV, which I think is a failure. It's her thoughts put into a diary on Michael. It's short because it's the first time writing from her Pov.

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He cannot know that I am doing this, so I am hiding this where he cannot find it. It will be buried somewhere, hidden in places he would never think to look but, one way or another, I know really deep within there is no point in doing what I am doing, for he always creeps in my mind like a creeper creeping up behind someone in the dark. With David, there is no hiding anything or winning in one form or another.

_Michael. _

David knows, they all know of the human that watched me as I moved along the boardwalk, and I write for I fear I will not see him again. Any who dares to get close always become one of those who get's snatched away. He will take his life, and it will be a punishment to me. I am allowed to mingle with those wild, free, people of Santa Carla, but I am not to connect, nor converse with them. I can choose to do what I wish if I really wanted to, but then a guilty, a deep burning guilt and sorrow will burn through me, as it will be my fault when David finds out, and it will be my fault when he takes action in the most brute force. Never against me though. With him, he hurts me in ways outsiders cannot see. Subtly, very subtly, he is cruel, cunning, and malicious. Any I dare to talk with, and attempt to befriend, he will destroy and another part of me surely becomes destroyed.

It's not like me to do this, in fact it's been so long since I have last done this it feel like a half remembered dream in some way. There is no reason for me to write anything down, not anymore, for I know it will all be the same. You are to write your feelings and thoughts down when using a diary, but mine are just the same ones, repeatedly playing like a broken record player. I feel nothing, not the positive emotions that a girl my age should feel. I yearn for nothing more than freedom, I yearn to break out of the binds he has me in, and I yearn to break the chains from around me and escape. In another form or another, I have no control over anything. He controls me, whether he converses with me or not. Daring to defy him or go up against him will cause drastic consequences. He is winning, and he smirks as he knows he is. I have no life, not the one I crave and yearn for with all my might to have.

Freedom, home, and family.

All have been snatched from me and although, deep within, I know there will never be an escape, I still believe, and I never give up for the things I think of almost every night.

But it's Michael, beautiful Michael who now makes me feel something, and he blocks out the pain that I feel, the deep never ending thirst that screams to be soothed and satisfied. I remember when I first saw him. That night where the air was full of dust and all the smells of the wild care free people that had flocked to the concert hit me. Their screams assaulted me, and their delight, glorious fun, and pure joy sang in a hum in the air. I could feel it, taste it on the end of my tongue, and at the moment, as I danced my way through them, I was them, I was a part of them. There was no David, no Paul, Marko, or Dwayne. There were no chains around me, and a surge went through me. For just those minutes, I felt free, I felt like just another person in Santa Carla. I was them. I was relishing in the freedom I had away from him, away from them, before it was time to say goodbye to the beautiful people that my eyes looked at, before I said farewell to my own light.

Michael. Alive, beautiful, kind hearted Michael. How he smelt alive when I, when he, when we came across each other at the concert. He held a scent of pollen, the sun, freshly cut grass, and all the warm smells of the day, all the smells of being human. As he looked at me, his dark brown eyes were warm and inviting, and I wanted to smile at him, wanted to talk with him, but David flashed in my mind. I locked eyes with those subtly cruel ones, and I knew then I could not. I did not know him, but what I saw, I could not talk with him. David would know, he always did, and Michael would have become another face on the missing poster board. I did what I had to do. Took off, but he followed, and I wished he wouldn't. I wished this mysterious, warm, friendly boy would just leave.

But David did not comment when he returned back to the cave and, for once, I smiled slightly, but the fear swam within. With David, there was no telling what he thought. He knew though, but not once did the subject form pass his lips.

Michael is everything that David, that any of them can ever be; he is everything that I want. I can't help but feel a small spark of jealousy when I see him. How lucky he is to look so beautiful, to be so carefree, and not be trapped in a family of monsters. He has no worries; he doesn't know how evil the world really is. Michael is innocent, warm, and beautiful outside and within…He is everything I want.


End file.
